ABCs of DWP Drabbles
by JackieJLH
Summary: 26 Drabbles, 250 words each or less, written for the ABC meme, which provided one prompt for each letter of the alphabet. Some gen, some Miranda/Andy, Miranda/Stephen, and Emily/Serena - and all of them entirely random. Based on movie canon only.
1. Antique

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Antique'.

* * *

The first time Andrea saw it was when she woke up lying close to the edge of the bed. Miranda was pressing soft kisses against the back of her neck. She looked down to see, among the pillows that had been cast aside the night before, a brown bear, who stared up at her with button eyes. He looked soft, but wore a serious expression, as old teddy bears usually do.

"Miranda," she murmured sleepily, picking it up, "why do you have a stuffed bear on your bed?"

"It was my grandmother's," she answered curtly, trying to take it away so she could continue what she'd been doing. When Andrea instead curled protectively around it, she sighed in frustration. "It was hers when she was young, then my mother's, and then mine, though they probably regret giving it to me now. It would have gone to my first daughter, but..."

"But you can't have just one of anything with twins," Andrea finished for her, grinning. "How did it survive three girls and still end up looking brand new?"

"It wasn't made to be _played with_," Miranda scoffed, frowning. "It's very rare—an original Mitchom. Supposedly one of the first." Her frown deepened as Andrea looked at the bear, her expression sad. "What?"

"It just seems... lonely. Toys _want_ to be played with. To be loved."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Toys don't _want_ anything, Andrea."

Andrea just shrugged and kissed the bear's nose. In spite of herself, Miranda smiled.


	2. Bereft

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Bereft'.

* * *

Their words won't stop echoing through her head.

"You're never home."

"It's like you don't even care about us."

And, of course, the most hurtful part of all: "We want to go live with Dad."

She's never denied her daughters anything, and so she let them go. She wants them to be happy.

The writing on the page before her blurs and twists, and she tosses her book aside. Mascara smears across her skin as she wipes at her eyes, and she can't bring herself to care.

She hears the front door open, and before she can stop herself, what hope she has left brings her to her feet and into the hall. Maybe they've changed their minds.

But it's not them. It's Andrea, who meets her eyes with a knowing expression as she offers her The Book.

"Miranda, is there—" Andrea starts to say, pity in her voice that should make Miranda angry, but only makes her heart ache a bit more. Those words throw her back to Paris, to being left. Twice.

Stephen never returned, but Andrea did, and so maybe Caroline and Cassidy will as well. Maybe one day they'll understand. Maybe they'll forgive her. Maybe...

Turning on her heel, she quickly goes upstairs. She half-listens for the sound of Andrea leaving, but it doesn't come. Instead, after a silent moment that seems to last an eternity, she hears hesitant footsteps on the stairs.


	3. Clavicle

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Clavicle'.

* * *

Nigel stared at Emily like she'd just told him the world was ending.

"She _can't_ not be there. Miranda specifically requested her."

"Yes, well, I tried to tell her agent that, but apparently she's in the hospital and can't be bothered to uphold her commitments for the next month or so."

"Emily, she broke her clavicle," Andrea said exasperatedly. "You don't just get up and go back to the runway after that."

"She doesn't have to stroll down a catwalk, for God's sake, just put on an evening gown and stand there!" Emily squeaked. "Oh no, who's going to tell Miranda?"

"That's your job," Nigel said, pointing at Andrea, who gave him an incredulous look as he walked away. She couldn't think of anything she wanted less than to tell Miranda that the first model she'd been even close to excited about in years wasn't going to show up at the photo shoot scheduled to start in four hours.

She looked to Emily, but there was no pity to be found there. "You tell her. I have to deal with rescheduling the shoot. Or canceling it. Whatever Miranda wants."

"You won't know what Miranda wants until someone tells her," Andrea pointed out, not moving to get up. Emily looked up from her computer to respond, but then froze, her face going pale. Turning her head slowly, Andrea saw Miranda watching her from the open doorway of her office, her lips pursed menacingly.

"Tells me what?"


	4. Discordant

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Discordant'.

* * *

Since they ran into each other at a benefit dinner, Andrea has learned so many things.

She's learned that Miranda hates to be teased, and doesn't like sad movies because they make her melancholy for the rest of the day.

She's learned that Miranda has the most beautiful laugh in the world.

She's learned that Miranda is allergic to cats.

Also, she's learned that Miranda sings in the shower. Very badly.

* * *

Andy's wincing before she's even fully awake. It takes her a moment to identify the noise, and when she does, she has to bury her face in the pillow to keep herself from laughing. The awful singing is coming from the bathroom, and more specifically, from_ Miranda._

Pushing herself out of bed, she pulls on a robe and leaves the room, intent on getting some coffee. She runs into the twins in the hall and her heart stops for a second. They were so upset about the relationship when they found out the night before. They're not supposed to be up yet, not supposed to know she spent the night.

They don't say anything, though, or even look angry. They just stop outside the bedroom door, their eyes growing wide.

"She's _singing_," Cassidy says.

"Yeah," Caroline answers softly. "She's... she's happy."

Both girls turn to look at Andy standing a few feet away, watching them nervously. And they smile.

Flooded with hope, Andy decides maybe Miranda's singing isn't so bad after all.


	5. Enchant

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Enchant'.

* * *

Sarah was tired of being treated like an idiot.

She knew that it wasn't really anything personal—Miranda always treated all of her assistants like idiots, even Emily. But still, it was frustrating.

And so when her roommate, Penny, offered help of the magical sort, she accepted.

Penny claimed to be a witch. Sarah thought she was probably crazy, but she didn't really have any other ideas. After spending a few days locked away in her bedroom, Penny presented her with a small bottle filled with clear liquid and a pocket-sized mirror.

"Put it in her coffee, and for twenty-four hours she'll be enchanted. Everything she wants will appear in the mirror. You'll look like you're on top of things all the time, and she can't be nasty to you then, right?"

And, amazingly, it worked. She got more coffee, and picked up Hermes scarves, and summoned Nigel all before Miranda had the chance to do more than think of those things. But between and around and behind these images were others—warm brown eyes; soft lips forming a gentle smile; a woman with dark hair, walking away.

Sarah didn't know who the woman in the mirror was, but it was obvious that she was what Miranda wanted most—the one thing Sarah couldn't possibly get for her.

Or could she?


	6. Fate

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Fate'.

* * *

Emily Charlton has never believed in destiny. She's never once assumed that any good, or bad, would come to her simply because it had been planned that way before her birth, and she doesn't believe that happens to other people, either. We are all, she says, products of our own decisions.

She doesn't know how to explain Serena.

Serena would say that it was inevitable. Fated. She'd say that even if one or both of them had never come to Runway, they'd have met in some other way. They would have had to because they were meant to be together.

The thing that confuses Emily is that she never chose this. She doesn't even like women, and Serena's not really her type anyway, and besides, she wants to move back to England one day and Serena finds England unbearably dreary, and so it can't possibly last. It shouldn't even have happened to begin with. And yet it did happen, in a series of smiles and laughs and held hands and hugs, shared lunches and after-work drinks and eyes that always seemed to find each other in crowded rooms, and one day Emily woke up in Serena's bed and realized that she'd accidentally fallen in love.

And for once, Emily is happy to let destiny direct her down a predetermined path, if only this one time. She doesn't think any choice she could have made would have led her down a better one.


	7. Gravity

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Gravity'.

* * *

Gravity. It's a law of nature, an invisible force constantly pulling things toward the earth. Things like cups filled with hot coffee that are tipped too far in any one direction, and cell phones thrown into fountains, and sixteen-year-old girls trying to sneak out of the second story window of a New York City townhouse via a knotted bedsheet.

Cassidy had told her sister it was a stupid idea from the start—nothing was ever as easy in real life as it was on TV. She refrained from reminding her of that due to how very angry their mother looked, and how quickly the ambulance arrived, and the horrifying way that Caroline's arm seemed to suddenly have two elbows. Caroline, who was focusing most of her attention on not moving her upper body at all and struggling not to sob too loudly, probably wouldn't have appreciated the comment anyway.

Still, when they all finally got home from the hospital after many hours of listening to their mother berate the nursing staff and threaten the careers of three doctors, Cassidy got a certain amount of satisfaction out of writing, "Told you so!" on her sister's cast.


	8. Homesick

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Homesick'.

* * *

Caroline hates spending summers at her dad's house.

It's not that she doesn't love her father, because she does. She even likes her stepmother and new half-brother, even if Cassidy can't stand either of them.

But she misses her home. She misses her bedroom, with its pink walls and soft white carpet. She misses how happy Cassidy is when they're there. She misses Patricia. Most of all, she misses her mom.

Cassidy claims she doesn't miss their mother; she says she only likes that house better because no one makes her help dry dishes or change diapers there. Caroline isn't sure she believes her, but doesn't say as much. She knows Cassidy doesn't _want_ to miss their mother because she so rarely seems to be miss _them_, and it's Cassidy's way of pretending that it doesn't hurt.

It does hurt, though, and Caroline doesn't bother to pretend it doesn't. She cries when her mother forgets to call at night, and when Cassidy says not to be surprised because it's not the first time it's happened and won't be the last. On those days Caroline hates her mother. But she misses her anyway, because sometimes she remembers just exactly what they want for their birthdays, and sometimes she has dinner with them and asks them about school, and sometimes she kisses their foreheads when she thinks they're asleep, and so Caroline can't bring herself to believe that their mom doesn't really care. And she so badly wants to go home.


	9. Inept

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Inept'.

* * *

Despite being intelligent women, they were both absolutely inept when it came to relationships. Not just with this new _thing_ that had developed recently, but always, with everyone. Miranda was too demanding, too unforgiving, too absent. Andrea was too selfish, too distracted, and just as absent, if not more so. Some said that they would make each other miserable. That they deserved each other.

Some days they agreed with that sentiment. Days like when Andrea missed the twins' birthday party because she was trying to meet a deadline. Days like when Miranda told Andrea she wouldn't have discussions about where their relationship was going because she wasn't a therapist and didn't have time for silly insecurities. Some days, they were certain they were just lying to each other and to themselves.

But then sometimes it was wonderful. Sometimes Andrea woke up to the feeling of the back of her neck being kissed; to soft fingertips drifting across her skin; to whispers of, "You're beautiful," and, "I love you," in her ear. Sometimes Miranda came home to find dinner waiting for her; to arms wrapping around her waist; to "You're beautiful," and, "I love you," whispered back.

Maybe they'd make it work, and maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they'd prove to be their own downfall. Maybe they'd love each other for the rest of their lives. The only thing that was for certain was that they weren't ready to give up yet, and for now, that was enough.


	10. Juicy

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Juicy'.

* * *

The manager of _Smith and Wollensky_ had been calling incessantly. He'd even sent over a complimentary steak, which Miranda had responded to with, "Why would I want _that_?" Andrea didn't know what to tell the poor man.

Miranda had called her into her study one night when she was delivering The Book, and handed her a paper covered in dietary restrictions.

"My doctor insists that I'll have a heart attack if I don't change what I eat," Miranda told her bitterly. "I trust that you won't breathe a word of this to anyone?"

"Of course not, Miranda," she answered, confused.

"It makes me sound _old_," Miranda said angrily. "The media cannot hear about this. _Irv_ cannot hear about this."

Per Miranda's request, the following week brought lunches of fruits, vegetables, and other things that normally she would never have bothered with. While watching Miranda eat juicy, dripping strawberries was possibly the hottest thing Andrea had ever seen, the awful mood that followed these sorts of meals made it not worth it.

So Andrea started researching, and two hours later, had a whole menu full of options put together. She tucked it inside The Book that night. The next day she found it in an envelope, lying on her keyboard. Multiple items were circled, and one was highlighted in green and underlined.

Miranda never said a word about it, but the look of pleasure on her face as she ate lunch was thanks enough. Even if Andrea did miss the strawberries.


	11. Kiss

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Kiss'.

* * *

It was like watching a train wreck. Andy could only look on in horror at the sight of Irv Ravitz, more drunk than she'd ever seen him, attempting to prevent Miranda from walking out from under the mistletoe. Miranda was being admirably calm, but anyone could see that it would only be a matter of time before she snapped.

"You see, Miranda," Irv said, his speech slightly slurred, "this is what happens when you're a bitch to everyone; nobody will kiss you." And he looked around expectantly, waiting to see if anyone in crowd would disagree. Of course, nobody did—they were all doing their best to pretend they didn't see what was happening.

Miranda tried to walk away again, only to have Irv block her, so that she had no choice but to step back again. Andy briefly entertained the idea of kissing Miranda herself, but with all of the reporters around, and the fact that it was _Miranda_, she decided against it.

It turned out that a rescue was not necessary—a few seconds later, without warning or hesitation, Miranda threw her entire glass of wine into Irv's face. He began spluttering and wiping it away, and Miranda lightly stepped around him, looking mildly amused with herself.

"Andrea, I'm ready to go home," she said as she passed, not pausing in her stride, and it was all Andy could do to keep a smile off of her face as she followed her to the waiting car.


	12. Letter

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Letter'.

* * *

It starts with a letter.

The letter isn't long, sentimental, or profound in any way. By the time it's found, it isn't even legible. The only thing remarkable about it, in fact, is that it was flushed down the toilet, where it clogged a pipe, flooding half the second floor of Miranda Priestly's townhouse.

The twins unblinkingly blame their long-suffering nanny. Their nanny, of course, knows better than to blame the girls, and points her finger at the maid, who blames her right back. Miranda distractedly flips through The Book and watches Stephen's eyes bug out at the sight of the dripping letter held by the dirty, sweaty plumber that Emily dared to send to their home, who is trying to explain that the toilet really isn't the best place to dispose of mail.

In the end Stephen fires the nanny and the maid and sends the twins to their room, where they stay for precisely five minutes complaining that he should never have been allowed to move back in. Then their mother says they can come out again.

"How could anyone be so stupid?" Stephen mutters as he walks away, missing Miranda's glare and the blush that spreads across her cheeks. She has to admit that perhaps the toilet wasn't the greatest idea, but Stephen had almost seen the letter. Besides, the contents of the letter are all she can focus on right now.

_I'm sorry. I want to see you.  
~Andrea_


	13. Mayhem

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Mayhem'.

* * *

**"You have seven new messages. First message."**

_"Andrea, how dare you turn off your phone? You are fired. You'll never work again!"_

**"Message deleted. Next message."**

_"Do you have any idea what sort of mayhem you've caused with your irresponsible, immature behavior? But you don't care how this reflects on Runway, or on me, do you? You have your_ ideals_."_

**"Message deleted. Next message."**

_"Nigel understands what I had to do. I don't see why you're being so stubborn and childish."_

**"Message deleted. Next message."**

_"Perhaps you are ill and not thinking clearly. I expect you to be ready to leave for my brunch meeting at nine a.m. tomorrow. I will assume that you'll be well enough to do your duties then."_

**"Message deleted. Next message."**

_"Call me. Now. I will not ask again."_

**"Message deleted. Next message."**

_"You are by far the biggest disappointment I've ever had."_

**"Message deleted. Next message."**

_"Andrea…. Talk to me. It's been two days. Do you plan to ignore me forever? Please… call me."_

**"Message deleted. There are no more messages in your voicemail box."**

Emily set the phone down and let her gaze drift to Miranda's office. She'd been given the task of transferring Andrea's cell phone to the new assistant, Cassandra. She had turned the new phone on, activated to the old number, and found the voicemail icon displayed on the screen. She hadn't expected… well, _that_. She wondered if Miranda knew that Andrea had never gotten the messages.


	14. Narrow

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Narrow', as a companion piece to 'Discordant'.

* * *

They both jumped as they heard the front door slam. Cassidy crept into the room, and then Caroline stormed in after her and glared at Andrea. "I hate you!" she shouted. "Why did you move in? You've ruined my life!" Then she ran out of the room and up the stairs, and her bedroom door slammed. Andrea looked to her lover with a lost expression in her eyes. She didn't understand. When she'd moved in, the girls had seemed okay with it. Happy, even. They'd said she made their mother sing in the shower, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did.

"Cass, what's going on?" Andrea asked, tears in her voice.

"Becky's mom says that she can't hang out with Caroline anymore because you and mom are sinners and setting a bad example." Cassidy rolled her eyes to indicate exactly what she thought of Becky's mother. "They've been best friends since they were four. God, her mom is so _stupid_."

"Thank you, Cassidy," Miranda said. Cassidy took the hint and left the room.

Miranda moved to sit beside Andrea, taking her hand. "This is not your fault," she said firmly, and Andrea nodded her head sadly, her gaze never leaving the floor. "That woman is the most narrow-minded, ridiculous…." She sighed and continued, "I'll go talk to Caroline. I'll tell her that outbursts like that aren't acceptable, and—"

"No, let me talk to her," Andrea insisted, taking a deep breath and rising to her feet.


	15. Oil

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Oil'.

* * *

Andrea had always liked doing things for herself, like cooking and cleaning and walking the dog. Miranda couldn't really understand why she did those things when she had a maid and a cook and any number of Runway assistants to cater to her every whim, but she didn't argue.

She felt it had all gone too far, though, when she came home to find Caroline, Cassidy, and Andrea sitting in her pristine kitchen, absolutely covered in filth.

"Andy taught us how to change the oil in your car," Cassidy said excitedly when she saw her mother. "And check the filters, and—"

"That's why mechanics _exist_, Andrea," Miranda said. "What if you've done it wrong and something falls off the car?"

Andrea rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Miranda, I've been doing this since I was fifteen," she said. "They'll be getting their permits soon. My dad always said no one should be allowed behind the wheel of a car unless they knew how to take care of it."

"My daughters do not need to spend their Saturday under a car."

"God, Mom, don't be such a snob," Cassidy said, laughing. "Come on, Caroline, let's go get cleaned up."

Once the twins had left the room, Andy turned her attention solely onto Miranda. "You're not really angry, are you?"

Miranda shook her head. "No, not angry. Now go wash so you can kiss me."

"I could kiss you now," Andrea offered, and Miranda took a step back.

"No! No, shower first."


	16. Portrait

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Portrait'.

* * *

Every year, we pose for a portrait.

In the first one we're babies. Mom holds Cassidy, Dad holds me. Everyone looks happy. In the next picture our parents stare straight ahead. They look worlds apart, even though their shoulders touch.

In the third we're on Mom's lap, and in number four everyone's standing. The fifth portrait has a new person, Gregg, but by the eighth, it's back to three of us.

Stephen only lasts for two portraits. We make Mom promise that if she ever remarries, her new husband can't pose with us. We're tired of reminders that our family's been broken so many times.

Then Andy comes along. She doesn't mind that we don't ask her to be in the portrait, but sometimes Mom looks at the picture wistfully, as if she thinks something's missing. Sometimes we think something's missing, too.

Cassidy and I decide to make a new one. It's a full month before we finish, and it's still not very good, but we do the best we can. While Mom and Andy are out, we take down the professional portrait and replace it with one we've made, and wait for them to come home.

When they see the new portrait, with Mom and Andy in back and us in front, and everyone looking happy, they stop and stare. Andy starts to cry.

"Girls, where did—" Mom starts to ask.

"We made it," I say. "The other one's wrong. It doesn't have the whole family."


	17. Queasy

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Queasy'.

* * *

Andrea is always involved in and aware of every aspect of Miranda's life. This, by itself, isn't out of the ordinary. She shares total access to everything concerning Miranda with Emily, and it's a privilege that's been granted to countless assistants before them.

But something about Andrea is different, somehow. It's barely there, not really noticeable unless someone's watching closely.

Emily watches closely. Miranda's very presence demands that the world pay attention, and Emily is met with that demand more often than most. And so while an unidentifiable _something_ has raised more than a few eyebrows, Emily's the first one to realize that it's not Andrea that's different. It's Miranda.

It's an assistant's job to be attentive, but Miranda is disconcertingly aware of _Andrea_, and that's not right. It's not normal.

Miranda never seems to look for the coat being handed to her, never glances over her shoulder to make sure someone is listening. She just trusts that Andrea will be there, without fail. Even after Paris, when Andrea almost left, when Miranda was furious with her, that didn't change.

But with Emily, Miranda always looks. It's as if she's certain that one day Emily won't be where she should be, even though she always been in the past.

The realization that it will probably always be this way is enough to make Emily sick to her stomach.


	18. Rumor

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Rumor'.

* * *

When Emily answered the phone during Paris fashion week, the last person she'd expected to hear on the other end was Miranda Priestly. Miranda Priestly didn't call Runway during fashion week. She had assistants for that.…

Miranda told her in a calm, terror-inducing voice to pack up Andrea's things, to get rid of every email and memo that Andrea had ever written, to start looking through applications for a new second assistant. Emily would have been thrilled at this latest turn of events, but she'd never heard Miranda sound so angry, and she was already worrying about how she'd hire someone to dispose of a body internationally.

The only thing to shock her more than that conversation was the next one, when Miranda called her the following morning to insist that everything be put back exactly where it had been and berated her for scheduling interviews because honestly, how many assistants did she need?

When Miranda arrived back in New York and headed straight to Runway, Andrea Sachs was close behind. Everyone knew she'd quit—the media had latched onto that story almost immediately—but now she was back. And Miranda wasn't any angrier than was usual. If anything, she seemed to be in a good mood, which was a little disconcerting. No one talked about anything except Andrea for days, speculating over what she'd done to put herself firmly back in Miranda's good graces once more, each suggestion more ridiculous or lewd than the last. But, of course, no one dared to ask.


	19. Storm

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Storm'.

* * *

Hurricanes were the bane of Andrea's existence, which seemed incredibly unfair, considering she'd lived in Ohio most of her life. This time she was _with_ Miranda, stranded in Miami. Nothing was flying out, of course, and Miranda had balked at the idea of going to a shelter as soon as she realized that it'd be full of the citizens of Miami and not, as she'd have preferred, completely empty but for herself and maybe, just maybe, her staff. So as Andy sat on the sofa in Miranda's suite and watched the TV anchorman explain that the storm had increased in strength and, from the way he made it sound, would likely kill them all, Miranda stalked back and forth in a fit of rage. That is, until the cable went out, quickly followed by the electricity.

"Maybe we should go downstairs," Andy said quietly as the wind howled outside. "I think it'll be safer there."

"Don't be ridiculous, Andrea. Everyone is sitting on the floor down there. If you think for one moment that I'll be joining them, you are an—"

But Andrea never found out what Miranda thought she was, because an airborne mailbox chose that moment to crash through the window. Glass flew everywhere, and the wind drove the rain into the room, instantly soaking the carpet.

"Perhaps downstairs would be better," Miranda conceded, grabbing her bag and heading for the door, and Andrea gratefully hurried to follow.


	20. Tutor

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Tutor'.

* * *

Miranda was used to having people in and out of her home. The maid, the nanny, the cook, her assistants, and various others had keys to her townhouse and were there at all hours of the day and night. She barely even saw any of them, except one. She noticed Tanya, Cassidy's science tutor. Or rather, she noticed the way that Stephen noticed Tanya.

At first she thought she was imagining it. After all, the girl was barely eighteen, much too young for Stephen. But soon the lingering stares, the times that he came home early on Mondays or Thursdays when Tanya would be at their home, happened too often for her to ignore it any longer.

She fired Tanya and handed her daughter's science project over to Andrea. Stephen was angry that she'd made that decision without talking to him, but she reminded him that he had no right to question her decisions on who would teach her daughter, and he couldn't very well argue that point. She didn't give the entire thing another thought.

She realized perhaps she should have when, just days after the divorce was made final, the papers exploded with the news that her ex-husband was engaged to a woman less than half Miranda's age. A mere girl, really. Named Tanya.


	21. Urgency

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Urgency'.

* * *

Andy tapped her foot anxiously as the taxi maneuvered its way through traffic, sighing in frustration as they stopped yet again. She'd been out of the country for nearly four weeks on assignment, and she really, really wanted to get home.

Miranda had emailed her to let her know that the twins would be at their father's until the following morning, and while she was disappointed because she loved Caroline and Cassidy dearly, their absence meant that she would have Miranda all to herself for the entire night. After a month of sleeping in filthy hotel rooms, all alone... well, she was looking forward to a night with her lover more than could say.

Finally the taxi stopped in front of the townhouse. She started to get her keys out as she neared the door, but it flew open before she got there, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Miranda waiting for her, desire and happiness and impatience radiating from her gaze.

Andy barely made it inside before the door was slammed shut and she was pushed against it, her lips captured in an insistent and frantic kiss. She dropped her bags onto the floor so she could wrap her arms around Miranda, pulling her close and delighting in the way their bodies seemed to meld together seamlessly, even after all the weeks apart.

"Upstairs," Miranda groaned, and Andrea pulled away only enough to allow them to hurry, hand in hand, up to their bedroom.


	22. Vocal

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Vocal'.

* * *

A week after Emily begins delivering The Book, she hears Miranda arguing with her husband. Arguing about_ her_.

Or, more specifically, her conversation with Stephen at a Runway function a few days earlier. She'd hovered just behind Miranda the entire night, and when she'd stopped so she could talk with some acquaintances, Emily stayed nearby. Then someone said into her ear, "You look like you're having about as much fun as I am."

She'd turned to find herself face to face with Stephen. He'd asked her name—Miranda had never bothered to introduce them; complimented her pretty accent; told her she was beautiful. Emily had excused herself, and he'd gone away. Miranda's eyes followed him as wandered over to the bar.

Emily cringes as she hears Stephen shout that he wouldn't have to talk to pretty girls if his wife would pay attention to him. Miranda tells him that she never promised him she'd change—she'd never even said she'd try—and why on earth did he think it'd happen now?

He says that at least when they go out, Miranda always has some pretty girl trailing behind her for him to look at instead. There's the sound of skin on skin, a face being slapped.

"Stay away from my assistants. At least have the decency to attempt to hide your affairs from me," Miranda hisses, bitterness radiating from every word.

Stephen answers back that he usually _does_, and in the tense silence that follows, Emily slips out the door.


	23. Whisper

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Whisper', and should be read as a companion piece to 'Discordant' and 'Narrow'.

* * *

I was staring up at my ceiling when Cassidy crept into the room and climbed into bed beside me.

"Why are adults so stupid?" she whispered, and I turned so I could hug her against me.

"Don't know," I answered. "Are you okay?"

"I miss Becky."

"You'll see her at school."

"Yeah, but what about summer? I can't go two months without my best friend. I'll _die_." She started crying. I hugged her tighter, trying to be comforting.

After a moment she rolled away and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't hate Andy," she whispered.

"I know."

"I yelled at her when she came to my room. I made her cry."

"Yeah, I heard. Mom was mad. Andy told her to leave you alone, though, and wouldn't let her call Becky's mom, either. She thinks it'll make things worse."

Cassidy smirked. "She's probably right, but it would be really funny."

"Becky's mom is the dumb one, you know. Andy didn't do anything wrong."

"I know. I wish people didn't care who Mom dated."

"Do you care?"

"Not really. I just want her to be happy, and Andy makes her happy. She wasn't this happy with Stephen. None of us were."

"Stephen was dumb, too."

Then there was a tap on the open door, and Andy peeked into the room. "Hi. Um… can I come in?" she asked. Cassidy sniffled and sat up, patting the empty spot at the bottom of the bed.


	24. XRay

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'X-ray'.

* * *

Of all the things Andrea and Miranda expected to find in their living room when they came home, Caroline making out with a piercing-covered boy was not one of them. After a silent moment where they both just stared, Miranda and cleared her throat loudly. Both of the teenagers leapt to their feet.

"Who's your friend?" Andy asked.

"Um, my boyfriend, X-Ray," Caroline said, looking sheepishly at her feet, and Miranda raised one eyebrow.

"X-Ray?"

"Yeah," the boy said, grinning. "You know, like, I see right through people, dude. Like, their emotions and shit. Right into their soul."

"What exactly does my soul tell you I'm feeling right now?" Miranda asked icily, and upon seeing the look on her face, the boy quickly grabbed his backpack off the floor.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Caroline," he said in a rush, hurrying out the front door.

Caroline looked torn between outrage and embarrassment. "Mom, did you have to be so mean?"

"Caroline, go to your room," Miranda ordered, glaring at her, and the girl burst into tears and pushed past her, heading up the stairs. Miranda turned her gaze back to Andrea, looking resigned. "I can't forbid her to see him, can I? After all, she's only sixteen…."

"Nope," Andrea said, smirking. "It'd just make her sneak around anyway. She's smart; she'll get tired of him. He sounded like an idiot."

"He called me 'dude'." Miranda wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Andy laughed. "I think you scared him."

"One can only hope."


	25. Youth

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Youth'.

* * *

It begins in Paris.

Her father sends her there every year to visit his sister and her family. Emily dreads the visits because her cousins are all boys (they always want to do the most boring things) and her friends are far away. But her father says that she has to go because there's no one at home to stay with her, not since Mum left.

The vacations aren't entirely bad; Emily learns French, and her aunt takes her shopping in all of the best stores. She's not allowed to tell her father because he wouldn't approve. He says that the Charltons don't need charity, and that the clothes he buys for his daughter are more than suitable, and besides, no eight-year-old needs dresses that cost more than he spends on food most months. Emily almost points out that her father must not be above accepting charity because he's fine with using his sister as a free nanny every year, but can't quite bring herself to say the words.

Emily falls in love with fashion. Paris stops being a chore, and becomes a goal—it calls to her, draws her in, and she spends most of every year waiting for summer. And when she turns seventeen, she spends her first winter in Paris and decides to stay.

Years later, when she takes a job at American Runway and moves to New York, she still dreams endlessly of Paris. She wants nothing more than to go back.


	26. Zone

**Author's Note: **Written for the prompt 'Zone'.

* * *

The Book was handed to Emily at seven p.m., about four hours earlier than normal. She happily gathered up her things and called Roy.

She let herself through the front door of Miranda's home just twenty minutes later, and stepped into what she was fairly certain was the Twilight Zone. First of all, she heard laughter. _Miranda's_ laughter. And the twins. And… someone else.

Then the strange voice shouted out, "You brats! I'll get you!" Emily barely heard the shrieks of laughter that followed. She recognized that voice. But… but it couldn't be.

The Twilight Zone theory was firmly cemented by two flour-covered girls racing into the hallway, followed closely by an equally-powdered Andrea Sachs. And then, as if that wasn't enough, Miranda (looking immaculate, as always) walked around the corner carrying a bowl of flour, which she proceeded to dump over Andrea's head.

Suddenly they all seemed to see Emily standing there, and they all froze, staring at her.

"Um… hi, Em," Andrea said finally, waving and sending clouds of flour into the air.

"I… the Book. Here," Emily stuttered, setting it down on the table and hurrying out the door. She got halfway down the steps before she realized that she still had Miranda's dry cleaning in her hand. She turned back towards the door, but before she got there, Miranda had opened it and was holding out her hand. Emily couldn't help but stare at the one streak of flour on her cheek.


End file.
